


Exhaustible and Inefficient

by Aria_i_Adagio



Series: Whatever I've Done - First Draft [9]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: A retelling of the Tower combining aspects of both Julian and Asra's routes.  Aka Let’s Send Two Melancholic Personality Types on a Journey of Self Confrontation and See What Happens.  Getting more canon divergent as I merrily roll ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For B. Who would probably tell me this utterly melodramatic tripe.  
> If you're stuck some afterlife Tower, I hope it’s a version of Borges’ library that only contains books which make some semantic sense.

“I don't like this.  You two going without me, being left here.”  Asra holds his hands up and bites his lip. We’re by the garden fountain.  Asra’s costume is completely disheveled and Julian and I are caught in some sort of in between state - disembodied and invisible to everyone except Faust and Malak.  At least, Faust is back where she should be, curled around Asra’s shoulders. That’s a small consolation, I suppose, given that Lucio has returned, I’ve managed to stuck in between the realms of the living and the dead with me, and Valdemar got their hands of his body to do who knows what with.  But Faust is with Asra. That’s something. 

I try again to touch my fingers to Asra’s; he shivers as they pass through.  Close enough, I suppose. “Faust, tell him he could just come with us.”

She obliges me with a bob of her head and licks the side of his face. _  “Go with?” _

Asra sighs.  “I want to, but someone needs to keep an eye on Lucio.  At least through dawn. And I might need to help Portia.”  

“I can’t believe she ran off on her own.”  Julian grumbles next to me. “If Valdemar hurts her, I swear I will -”

I twine my ghostly fingers around Julian’s.  “Portia is a force of nature condensed into a tiny body.  And Malak is with her.” 

Asra’s mouth curves into that not quite smile he forces when he's trying to disguise his anxiety.  “I know you two will keep each other safe. I'll see you soon.” He reaches down and stirs the water in the fountain.  As the water ripples it changes to a night sky, bright with unfamiliar galaxies. “You’ll find safe harbor in the Magician’s realm.  But, you’ll have to find your way there, Dema, since you don’t have an affinity for any of the Major Arcana. And the space between realms is dangerous.  Don’t linger.”

I take both of Julian’s hands in mine and step up onto the edge of the fountain.  “Don’t let go.”

Julian’s neck bobs as he swallows hard.  “I don't intend to.”

With a final glance back at Asra and whatever passes for a deep breath when caught between realms, I fall backwards, pulling Julian with me.

 

I snap my eyes open, like waking myself from a dream.  I’m laying on my back, looking up at a starry sky. Julian’s hands are still twined in mine, he’s sprawled half on top of my.  I let go of one of his hands and run my fingers through his hair. “We’re . . . somewhere.”

Julian lifts his head off my chest and looks around.  “Somewhere looks a lot like nowhere.” He lays his head back down.  “I don’t like this.”

“We’re still between realms.  At least, I think we are.” I close my eyes and sigh.  “I’ve got to somehow get us to somewhere.” I have no idea how to get to any specific realm.

There’s a scuffling noise and a low whine.  A strange little dog headed creature is sniffing at Julian’s boots.  He sits up, startled, then relaxes and holds out his hand. “Hey there.”  The little creature sniffs his hand, then barks and perks their ears up. 

“Um, Ilya, I don’t know -”  The little creature is an amalgam of human and animal - a dog’s head, furry little hands, and crooked back legs.  But I don’t recognize them from any of Asra’s cards, and unlike the Major Arcana I've met, they show no sign of speaking. 

“I think she’s friendly.”

The strange little creature turns her luminous eyes to me, wags her tail, and suddenly, I agree with Julian.  I couldn’t explain why or how, but I agree. She’s a curious thing, but she means us no harm. The little dog grabs his hand - it takes both of hers to wrap around his - and pulls him to his feet, before gesturing to me to get up.  

Julian reaches down and takes my hand.  “Careful now. Whatever this is is slippery.”

The surface now appears to be a narrow bridge of glass, cutting through the starry sky.  The dog barks at us and sets off along the path, tail still wagging. I hang onto Julian's arm as we follow her.  He peers over the edge.

“Dema, look at this.”

Even as I think we're both too curious for our own good, I lean over his shoulder and look down.  Below is nothing. Except within nothing, there is something undulating in the void. My stomach twists with nausea, but I can't tear my eyes away.  There's some sort of rhythm - a pattern - to their movement that borders on soothing, hypnotic and familiar.

Small fingers close around my arm and I'm hauled back from the edge.  I gasp as I realize just how close Julian and I were to falling. She shakes her little finger in my face and gives me a look that is clearly disappointed before continuing in the same direction as before.

Julian brushes his hands against his pants before offering me his arm again.  “Umm, so I take it we should just go forward.”

“She seems to know the way.”  Off to the other side of the path lightening forks through the sky.  I press close to Ilya, expecting a roll of thunder that doesn't come.  “I don't understand this place.”

“If you don't understand it -”

“Then you better put your clever side on notice, because I need some help need.”

He's quiet for a moment then squeezes my fingers.  “Fair enough. What do we know so far? Don't slip off the slippery glass bridge.”

“We're possibly being led by one of the Major Arcana.  I don't recognize her from any of Asra's cards, but there's no reason why their appearances would have to correspond to his deck.”

“The pup?  She seems so friendly - and undemanding.”

“Let's hope she stays that way.”

Behind us, lightening cuts through the sky again, hitting the bridge with a mighty crack.  Thunder follows it, reverberating through the darkness as the bridge begins to crumble. Ahead of us, the dog barks in distress and gestures for us to run.

We do.  But not fast enough.

 

The space between realms is like a dream, I remind myself.  I'm falling through the void again, clinging desperately to Julian.  You don't have to breath in a dream. Something warm and moist curls around one of my legs.  I kick violently, and it slides away, with the paradoxical logic of dreams, tenderly caressing my bare calf.  When you're falling in a dream how do you stop? That’s right. Open your eyes.

I snap my eyes open and space stills around me.  I'm on a stone landing, tangled in a heap with Julian.  His eyes are still tightly closed, and his hands are locked painfully tight around my upper arms.  “Ilya, open your eyes. It'll stop. Just open them.”

He gasps, and his eyes snap open.  “Dema, you - we're.” His hands tighten on my arms; I wince and he lets go with a jerk.  “Oh no, did I hurt you? I hurt you. I'm so -”

I touch a finger to his lips.  “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both okay.”

He sits up and runs a hand tentatively along my jaw, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip.  “You’re sure that you’re alright?” I nod and lean against his shoulder. He wraps arm around me and looks around.  “Where are we now?”

We’re sitting on a landing, stairs spiraling off into the space above and below us.  Grey light filters in a small window. Outside, rain beats against the stone wall in sheets, interrupted by flashes of lightning and low rolls of thunder.  I shiver and grab Julian’s hand, pulling his arm tighter around me. 

“The Tower.  We’re in the Tower’s Realm.”

“Is that, um, another Arcana?”

I nod.  Asra intended for us - well, me with Julian tagging along - to find the Magician’s realm and relative safety.  Instead, I’ve managed to land us in the realm of one of the more distinctively dangerous Arcana.

The rain slows and softens.  Outside the window there’s a faint cry of fear and pain.  Julian lets go of me and jumps up, leaning out to look around.  I pick myself up out of the floor and stand beside, unable to see anything but fog as I peer out the window.

“Did you hear that?  There’s someone out there.”

“Julian, I don’t know, the Arcana are -”

Another plaintive cry.   _ “Help me!  Please, don’t leave.” _

“That voice.”  I stiffen and curl my fingers around Julian’s wrist.

_ “Don’t leave me to die alone.” _

“Dema.”  His voice is low, eyebrows knit together with pain.  “Is that your voice?”

I close my eyes, and for a second, I can see the red glinting eyes of the plague doctors’ masks.  “No.” It’s a mimicry. I turn away from the window and sit down heavily in the floor. “I didn’t have enough strength, not at the end, to speak.”  That memory, being hauled away, to weak to protest or even indicate I was alive - will it be the only one I ever recover? “It’s the Tower, taunting us, taunting you.”

“Taunting? With what?”

There's another distant wail.  I shudder and draw my arms close to my chest. “With fear?  Feeling helpless?”

“Guilt.”  Julian speaks slowly as he kneels down beside me. “I shouldn't have . . . You shouldn't have been alone.  You should have left with Asra, if I hadn't asked you -”

“Julian.”  I touch my hand to the side of his face, cutting him off.  “If I am that person, I can't imagine anyone made me stay or could have made me leave.  I'm stubborn if nothing else.”

He smiles sadly and leans his face against my hand, closing his eyes.  “You are that, my dear.”

I run my thumb over his bottom lip.  “And you're here with me now. That's what matters.”

There's another painful scream from outside the tower.  Brave words forgotten, I tense and clasp my hands over my ears.  Julian leaps to his feet, eyes wild as he stares out the window. “Damnit!”

When he leans against the window sill, the mortar around a brick gives, and it falls away.  Julian throws himself backwards landing in the floor beside me.

“Umm... Not my most graceful moment.”

I roll my eyes and grin.  As I do, there’s a thump behind me.  The brick Julian knocked from the windowsill lands in the stone floor behind us.  Julian stares at it, a considering expression on his face.

“Well, that’s interesting.”  He begins the process of pulling off one of his boots.  

“What are you doing?”

“Science, darling.”

A flask falls from his boot.  I pick it, unscrew the top, and sniff at the contents.  Whiskey. Exactly how our possessions made it across the divide with us isn’t something I can explain, but I’ll take it.  And a sip of this. For that matter, I close my eyes and concentrate, imagining loose pants and a my favorite soft, wool sweater.  When I open them again, the ballgown has been replaced and Julian is staring at me in amazement.

“If I’m stuck between realms, I may as well be comfortable.”  I take another sip from the flask. “And tipsy.”

“Fair enough.”  He stands back up and chucks his boot out the window.  “Now, if I’m right . . .” A moment later his boot comes flying in the opposite window, sliding across the floor.  “Ah, and I'm right! Now for one other test.” He walks over to the rail, gait thrown off by the heel of the boot he’s left on, and drops the boot down the tower shaft.  He looks up and holds out his hand, deftly snagging his boot as it drops back through the tower. “That's what I call evidence.”

I smile again as he tugs his now well traveled boot back on.  “And what does that evidence say?”

“If nothing else that this place does operate according to laws that can be observed. And if we can understand those, then maybe we can find a way out.  So far, it seems like this is a closed loop. Things end up back where they started.” He paces back and forth. “Don’t fail me now brain. I’ve never regretted studying science instead of magic, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Instead of?”

“Well, both isn’t an option.”  He pauses his paces and looks at me.  “Is it?”

“I was a magician studying medicine.  That’s science isn’t it?”

“Ideally.”

“Why couldn’t you learn magic?”  I take another sip of whiskey from his flask.  “I could teach you. Now even.”

“Doesn’t it require years of study.  And I don’t have any talent.”

“Talent helps, but it isn’t required.  And -” I gesture to the space around us.  “We have more time than anything else.”

Julian gives me a considering look.  “Who ever thought I’d be afraid to learn something new?”

I shift around to sit cross legged, back still to the wall, and patted the floor in front of me.  “Come on, we can do this together. I believe in you.”

“Why not?”  He sits down across from me, mirroring my posture.  “So, how do we start?”

I bite my lip and rack my brain for a moment.  Asra and I both rely heavily on visualisations to do spellwork, but I suspect I’ll need a more concrete method to teach Julian.  “Do you have something to write with?”

“Darling, I always have something to write with.”  He rummages through the inside pockets of his coat, finally producing a palm sized notebook and a stub of a pencil.  “Never know when I’ll need to take notes. Do I, um, need to take notes?”

“Not exactly.”  I take the notebook from his hands and lay it on the floor between us, open to a blank page.  I begin by sketching a circle on the paper and begin filling in sigils, explaining their meaning to Julian as I go.  “This is an anchor - of sorts - for those orbs of light Asra and I can summon. The sigil is for light and this final one indicates action.  This version is for something temporary - a spell that will only hold while you’re actively thinking about it. It you wanted a spell that would last for some time, you’d use a slightly different sigil.”  I sketched the second version in the top corner of the page as a demonstration then set aside the pencil and took his hands in mine. “Put your hands here and here. And think about light.”

“Think what about light?”

“Anything.  Sun, stars, a glowing candle . . . it’s your intent that fuels the magic.”

Julian stares at the paper intently, and for a moment, I’m worried that this won’t actually work.  But then a faint, incandescent ball flickers above the page. Julian raises his eyes to mine, a mad grin on his face, and the orb gutters for a second before steadying again.  I smile and clap my hands together with delight. “You’ve got it.”

“Magic, whoever thought I’d learn magic.”  He takes his hands off the paper and the light extinguishes itself.  “What else can you do like this?”

“Well, this is a handy modification.”  I pick the pencil back up and add another sigil to the design, significantly smaller than the one I had used for light.  “This symbolizes heat. The relative size of the symbols is important. Try it again, but think of something that has both light and warmth this time.”

“Hmm.  A beach, in the summer, or somewhere near the equator.”  He places his hands back on the paper and the light flares back to life, this time casting warmth along with its glow.  I hold my hands close to the orb, I had recognized the Tower’s chill. Julian smiles at me. “You say that if you changed that other sigil this would last even without active intent.”

“Yes, how long would depend on how much skill and your strength of will in setting it up, but it would last some time.”

He lifts his hands off the paper, then laces his fingers into mine.  “That - thank you. I never thought I even could do something like this.” 

“I . . . don’t thank me until we’re out of this disaster I’ve created.”  I bow my head. “This is my fault.”

“Dema.”  He’s quite for a moment, then I feel him touch his forehead to mine.  “We’ll figure it out. Do you know what realm we’re in? Can you tell me more about it?”

I close my eyes to think.  The Tower symbolizes destruction, the crumbling of false beliefs and habits.  It can be traumatic - most decks some two figures falling from a tower that has been destroyed by lightning.  We could try jumping, I suppose, but if the same rules that apply to Julian’s boots apply to us, we’ll end right back here.  Asra’s deck keeps the image of a tower crumbling from a strike of lightning, but adds a haunting profile of a deer, and the red beetles that hopefully haven’t followed Lucio into Vesuvia in our absence.

_ “. . . can’t keep this up.  . . . so tired.” _

For a moment, I think that the words are just in my head; the intermittent refrain that plays when I don’t keep myself busy enough.  Then Julian grabs my arms. “Do you hear that?” The voice is still mine but low and sibilant, splitting and echoing over itself. 

_ “Stop.  Just stop. . . . fuck this up too.”   _ I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. If I hadn’t agreed to take the Devil’s offer, we might be back with Asra, maybe not safe and sound, but at least, not stuck here.  

_ “It’s always going to be like this.  Always come back to this again.” _

“Look at me.”  Julian’s voice breaks through, and I open my eyes.  He’s leaned over, face close to mine, brows pinched with worry.  “It’s that voice again. You said earlier it was taunting me. It’s doing the same thing to you.”

“I can’t escape myself.”  My voice is small.

“Listen to me.  You don't need to escape yourself.  You aren't a fuck up.”

“How can you say that when everything I’ve ever done, everything that I do ends up crumbling to ash around me?”  The chill I felt a moment before turns to a flare of fever, and I hug my arms tighter to my chest, a sob escaping as I do. 

“Dammit, Dema, where is your stubbornness?”  He pulls me close to him, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing my back.  “Come on, you've gotten me to come up from the bottom of how many bottles.”

I hiccup - dignity thoroughly gone - and huddle closer to him.  I cast my magic around me. I can just feel the Tower’s magic, a constricting ring spinning around me - around us.  “I - it always comes back. I can feel so strong, so brave, but it always comes back to this.” At the end of it all, I’m forever, trapped, helpless.

“Why does one have to be more real than the other?”

“What?”

“If it’s a pattern - a constant repetition - why is, why should, the feeling of helplessness be more real than the feeling of power?”

“I, I don’t know.”  There’s a blood curdling shriek from outside the Tower.  I fling my magic against circulating ring of the Tower’s power.  For a moment, I feel it give and the Tower itself tremors, but the spinning resumes and the sense of constraint snaps back around me.  Anger replaces despair. “Fucking hell!”

Julian wraps his arms tighter around me as the Tower stills.  “It’s not any different than me saying I can’t study magic and science.  And, I’ll be with you this time.”

I’m quiet for a moment, biting my lip and thinking.  “You’re right.”

“I am?  I mean, of course, I am.”

I pull out of Julian’s embrace and turn around grabbing both his hands in mine.  “I’m going to try something. If you’ll lend me some magic.”

“Of course, but um, how do I do that?”

“Just, concentrate on something that makes you feel strong.  And let me be in control.”

He chuckles and his mouth quirks into a smile.  “Darling, those are words I love to hear.”

“And hang on.”  Given the way the Tower itself shook when I pushed back against it before and the traditional illustration on the cards, I suspected that we’d find ourselves falling again.  I close my eyes and reach out again. I can feel Julian’s own magic pulsing beneath mine, steady and completely at my command. The Tower’s ring is still there, spinning. I push against it, outward.  Everything shakes. I push again, this time imagining myself kicking, struggling, anything except letting myself - letting us - be contained.

The Tower crumbles.  I scream in both triumph and terror as we fall again.


	2. Chapter 2

Julian’s arms are wrapped tightly around me as we drift along with the whims of the current.  I concentrate on the idea of the Magician and his realm, the pink sand beaches and palm trees.  Endless questions without any solid answers. I get the sense that the waves are pushing us somewhere; I fervently hope that it is the right direction.  Another wave crashes over our heads, pushing down, down until I feel rough sand against my skin. 

Julian is able to stand in the water well before I am.  He tugs on my arms, hauling us both onto land. He pulls me close to him again, before we both fall exhausted on the sand.  I’m able to curl my fingers into his drenched hair before my eyes close and exhaustion claims me. 

 

The cold of the ocean is replaced by the light and warmth of a palace guest rooms. Asra sits on the bed.  He spreads his tarot deck out in front of him, face up. Like before the tarot deck is the only thing that appears in color to me.  Asra, and Faust curled in his lap, are both drained of any hue. He digs in his bag until he finds a time worn compass. Its needle shifts back and forth until I sit on the bed, when the needle settles on me.

“Are you here?”  Asra’s voice is small, forlorn.  Faust raises her head to look at him, but unlike before she send unaware of my presence.

I reach over to the deck and slide out the Fool.  Then, slowly, deliberately, the Lovers.

“You feel fainter than you did before.  Are you okay? Is Ilya alright? Where are you?”

I find the cards I need.  The Hanged Man, making sure to place the card so that it appears upright to Asra.  I place that card and the Fool on the Tower. Asra shudders when I do, and I quickly move the cards to the Magician.  He visibly relaxes. 

“I know you’re skeptical, Dema, but you'll be safe there.  Well, safer.” He runs his hand across his face and then back through his hair.

I trace my fingers over the deck, looking for a card to symbolize Portia.  Her garden, mad as it is with grasp gourds, reminds me of the Star pouring water if the earth, carefully tended, if not overly controlled.

“I don't understand.”  

I nudge the Hanged Man card closer to the Star, hoping that Asra will catch the association.  Faust still shows no indication that she's aware of me, so I can't hope to clarify my questions through her.

Asra looks up.  His eyes brighten for a moment, but his face falls when he remembers that he can't actually see me   “Do you mean Portia? I haven't heard from her. I'm sure Ilya's worried. Nadia sent Nahara and Nazali to try to find her once she heard.  I suggested that dungeon below the library.”

While he speaks, I hear the sound of waves crashing against a beach and feel something beginning to tug at me, gently with none of the pain I experienced when the Devil ripped me from my body.  Asra seems to notice as well, clutching at his compass as the needle behind to tremor wildly.

“I'll be with both of you soon.”

I reach out and the the queen of cups from the deck.  The card barely move before Asra fades from my vision.  I let myself drift back into the sound of the ocean, hoping that the twitch of the card could communicate how much I want to comfort him.

 

Waves lap at my feet.  Both Julian and I are soaked through with seawater.  He's even paler than usual, and in the moment between observing his color and seeing his chest rise and fall, I panic.  Even if, I remind myself sternly, we don't actually need to breath in these realms.

A cold wind blows off the ocean.  Shivering, I work a spell to dry out my clothes, doing the same for Julian before leaning over him, tracing the back of my fingers along his cheekbones and pressing kisses to his eyelids.  He stirs after a few kisses, throwing a lazy arm around me and pulling me closer to him without opening his eyes.

“Did we make it? Are we in this Magician's realm?”

“We did.  It's kinda pretty here, if you want to open your eyes.”  The beach we're lying on is the same tropical fantasy of palm trees and pink sand Asra and I visited before.  I don't understand why it's so cold now.

Julian opens his eyes slowly and smiles.  “Well, of course, it's pretty, if I'm waking up to you.”

“Flatterer.  Stop it.” I wiggle out from under his arm.

“Stop what?”  He sits up, stretching, and looks around.  “This isn't, uh, like any tropical island I've ever visited.”

“I haven't visited any.  At least, not as far as I know.”

“I've also never been on a tropical island this cold.”  Julian still had his feathered coat from the masquerade, but it's made for style, not warmth.  I'm very glad that I'm not still wearing a dress with slits all the way up each leg.

“Well -” I stand, brush the sand off my pants, and offer Julian my hand.  “Let's go visit the Magician. It might be warmer in his lair.”

“Lair?  That’s ominous.  I thought this guy was one of the good ones.”

“Define good.”  I start walking along the beach, heading toward the copse of palm trees that shelter the entrance to the Magician’s abode.  Before the Magician held court in a facsimile of my shop. I wonder if he'll keep that illusion, or select something new. I take Julian’s hand, unsure if he’s be able to see the faint glimmer between the palm trees and pull him after me.

Inside, the Magician has recreated the back room of the shop again.  He’s sitting behind the reading table, wearing Asra’s appearance, an inscrutable smile spread across his face.  Julian’s hand tightens around mine.

“Dema, Julian, I see you did manage to escape the Tower.”

“Wait -” Julian releases my hand.  “You’ve never called me - you’re not.”

The Magician laughs and shimmers slightly as he reverts to the form of a fox headed being.  “Very good, Ilya.” He snaps his fingers and two stools appear on our side of the reading table.  “Sit. You must quite tired. Traveling between realms is no small feat.”

I sink onto one stool.  Julian follows me after a moment, staring warily at the Magician.  The fox simply smiles at use and shuffles his deck of cards. 

“Tell me, Dema, do you think you’re safe now?”

“No.”  I can’t keep the resentment from my voice or the image of Asra’s aura fading into the Magician’s out of my head.  Asra trusts the Magician, but I can’t bring myself to do so.

“What did you think of Scout then?”

“Scout?”

The fox’s eyebrows raise in amusement.  “So you didn’t recognize her. A dog headed innocent.  Friend to the wanderer and the lost.”

“Oh, the dog who tried to help us.”  Julian breaks in. “She has a name. What is she?”

“Indeed, what is she?  A stray seeking her person?  Something else.”

Should I have recognized her?  Something about the dog headed creature had seemed familiar.  Safe. And she had tried to help Julian and me, pulling us back onto the starlit bridge in that void.  What part of my forgotten past was she?

The Magician begins to the lay the card out on the table, face down.  “What questions have you come with this time?”

I keep my mouth shut, unwilling to verbalize questions that I know won’t be answered.  Julian lacks any such reticence.

“How do we get back to the real world?  To home?”

“Ilya, I wonder just how much are you willing to give to get both of you home again?”  

Julian’s eyebrows knit together, and he stares at the Magician in uncharacteristic silence.  I reach for him, settling my hand on his knee as I recall the old memory of him and Asra I recovered from the library.  The cool calculation in Asra’s eyes when he asked just how much he was willing to give. Everything had been his answer then, but he’s already given that, given everything.  How could that be asked of him again?

The Magician’s gaze shifts to me.  “You’re closer to the end than you realize, little one.”  He turns and raises his hands, contorting them until the cast shadows on the back wall.  A lone figure, followed after by a dog. The figures move along the wall, overtaken by others as they go, a ram, a goat, a flying owl - impossibly many to be cast by a single set of hands.  

“I just want -”  The back room dissolves around us as I begin to speak and suddenly Julian and I are back on the beach, shivering in the freezing wind.  The sun has set while we spoke with the Magician adding another layer to the cold.

“He’s not especially helpful, is he?”

“Not at all.”  I look around the empty beach and sigh.  “I spoke with Asra. While we were asleep.”  

“You did?  Why didn’t you say something?  Is he okay? Is Pasha?”

“Asra’s alright.  He didn’t know anything about Portia, but he should be here soon.”  Even as I say the word, I’m painfully aware that I don’t know what soon means in this context.  Asra could have begun the process of travelling to this place moments after I faded from him and we still wouldn’t see him for hours, or even days, with the difference in the way time moved between and within the realms.

“We should probably try to find some sort of shelter then.  To wait on him.”

I nod, then square my hands on my hips.  Asra said we’d find safe harbor here. I just might have to insist on it with our enigmatic host.  Pulling Julian’s face down to my height, I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back. I think.”

I stalk back into the Magician’s lair.


	3. Death and Living Reconciled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicide, self harm, scars  
> Note: If you haven't read the prior works in this series, this chapter will probably make more sense if you go back and read the pre canon content in “Laughing with a Mouth if Blood.”

When I push through back into the Magician’s abode, the space still has the appearance of my shop, but now we’re upstairs; the Magician - wearing his own face this time - is sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea between his hands.

“You’re back, little one.  More questions?”

“You’re not a very good host.  It’s freezing out there.”

He tilts his head, regarding me with those glowing purple eyes.  “Ah, Dema, I do like you.” The Magician gestures around the space with his hand.  “Take what you want. Believe the object will come with you when you leave, and it will be so.”

I nod curtly and strip the blankets from the bed in the back room, bundling them up in my arms.  The Magician watches me, equally silence, as I glance around the front room. Before, I’ve been sent from here, the space dissolving around me.  I’ve never left of my own accord before. Remembering what he said about the objects I chose to take, I grit my teeth and decide that stepping onto the stairs will lead me back to the beach and to Julian.  When I put my foot down, it sinks into the sand. I smile in satisfaction; the blankets remain bundled in my arms.

On the beach, Julian is kneeling in the sand, surrounded by a circle of glowing fairy lights.  He beckons to me excitedly as I approach. He’s sketched the sigils for light and heat directly into the sand, creating a small, but effective sanctuary from the cold. 

“Look at you!”

He smiles up at me as he takes the pile of blankets from my hands.  “I know. It took a bit of fiddling before I got the balance of light to heat right, but once I did.”  

I step into the circle of light and warmth, careful not to disturb any of the sigils he’s drawn, and sink down to my knees.  I unfold one of the blankets, spreading it between us. “I’m so proud you, Julian.” He shucks off his boots and sets them to the side of the blanket before brushing the sand off his knees and climbing onto the blanket. As the wind blows in, momentarily pushing the warmth away, he picks up another blanket and drapes it around my shoulders.

“Now if I can just figure out how to deal with the wind.”

“I can take care of that.”  I step out of the circle for a moment and sketch another set of marks into the sand in front of the glowing orbs, creating an invisible windbreak between us and the sea.  Shaking the sand off my feet, I return to Julian and the nest he’s made of the blankets.

“Much better.”  He pulls me down beside him.  “And even better now.”

I pick up his hand and run my fingers between his, kissing the mark tattooed on the back of his left hand.  “I like your hands. Bare like this.”

“Oh but the gloves are part of my overall mysterious, sexy look.”

“The gloves are only sexy in the taking off thereof.”  I let go of his hand and turn into Julian's chest pushing aside his shirt and kissing his collarbone.  

“Hmm, most clothing can be sexy if someone is taking it off.  Even this ratty old sweater.” His hands edge underneath the edge of my sweater.

“Ratty?”

“Well loved, then.”  

He leans over, kissing my forehead then the side of my jaw whole his hand creeps under the hem of my much mended sweater.  I stretch my arms over my head, inviting him to peel it off me. The shirt I have on underneath is simple and sleeveless, held together by a row of buttons down the front.  I catch how hand, pressing it flat against my sternum.

“Ilya -”

“What is it?”

“What the Magician asked -” I glance to the side, away from his face, but the ring of lights are the same blue grey as his eyes.  “What you're willing to give - it's asking too much for you to give more than you already have.”

“Dema -”

“No.  If there's an opportunity to send you back to the real world, to your body, even it's without me, I want you to take it.”

His free hand traces along my jaw and I turn my head, leaning into his hand.  He shakes his head. “Not without you.” He’s quiet for a moment, studying my face.  “I was terrified, when we fell into the sea. When Portia and I were little, we were shipwrecked.  Storm of the century, according to the babushki. And she was so little then, so I was hanging onto her and onto a broken piece of the ship for an entire night.  I didn't know how we were going to make it.”

“Ilya -”

He shakes off my hand then rolls over and sits up, tugging me back into his lap.  “But morning came, and we washed up on the shore, and that was that. It was fine.”  How runs his hand through my hair, then holds me tightly against him. “It'll be fine.”

“I want to believe you,” I murmur into his shoulder. 

“Then believe me.”  He presses a kiss to my neck.  “Or, at least, let me distract you.”

I tilt my head to the side and such with pleasure as he finds a sensitive spot and sucks at it.  I lay back, tugging him down with me, one leg wrapped around his back. He continues nibbling down my neck, to my collarbone, works the buttons on my shirt loose before pushing the fabric aside, and stopping.  He props himself out on his elbow with a thoughtful look and lazily traces his finger over my ribcage and along my sternum, dragging the back of his nail over the top of my right breast.

“What are you thinking, Ilya?”

“Oh, you, um, had a tattoo here -”  He traces the same path backwards with his hand, stopping just part the edge of my ribs. “- to here.”

“Well -” I half sit up, weight reading in my elbows.  “I didn’t do things by halves, did I? What of?”

He chuckles and leans down, pressing his lips to my collarbone.  “ _ Zhar-ptitsa  _ \- firebird - a phoenix.  You said you got it because you were constantly -”

“-unmaking and remaking myself.”  I drop my head back against the sand as the words leave my mouth.  I can feel the drag of magic against my skin, as a glamour being pulled away in this place where time flows along rhizomatic paths.  When I lift my head, I can just see the red feathered head of a phoenix marked on the top of my breast, with its elegant neck curving down.  Julian’s hands tighten around my wrists, suddenly holding my arms down. “Ilya - what?”

“How much - did you remember anything else - just now?”

“Just the end of that sentence.  Why? What?”

He looks at me with worry in his eyes.  “You can’t undo whatever it is you just did?”

“I don’t think I did it.”

He presses his cheek to mine.  “I love you. You know that.”

“Julian.  What is it?”

“Here, uh, close your eyes and sit up.”

I comply and he pulls on my arms, pulling me upright.  He turns over my right arm, and presses his lips softly against the inside of my wrist before letting go of that hand.  “Okay.” I open my eyes and look down. Two scar run the entire length of my inner arm, a shorter fainter one tracing between them.  

“Oh.”  My gut twists.  “And the other.”  Julian lets go my left wrist, uncurling each finger slowly.  I turn my arm over slowly. My breath catches in my throat. I look away, right hand covering my mouth, then turn my head back.  The inside of my left arm is more scar tissue than not, cuts shallow and deep, welts from burns, and what looks like the traces of skin being torn away.  Closing my eyes, I drop my head against Julian’s shoulder and let me pull me tight against him. “When did I . . . ?”

“Before we met.”

“So you don’t know -”

“We never really talked too much about it.  Um, you told me once that the left was worse because when things were really bad -”

“- it didn’t even feel like a part of me.  That sometimes happens. Still.” I tuck that arm between us hiding the twisted scars against my stomach.  “And you fell in love with me anyway.”

“ _ Solnishka _ -”  

“But, why, why would Asra bring me back if . . .?”

“Because he loves you.  Because that piece of his heart was already gone before he made a bargain to bring you back.  You already had it.” He curls his hand around the back of my skull, weaving his fingers through my hair.  “And I am so very grateful he did.”

We’re quiet.  I focus on my breathing, bringing in into harmony with Julian’s.  Eventually, he lies back down, still cuddling me close to him and running his fingers through my hair.  The sound of the waves fades, replaced by the cracking of a hearth fire. I'm hunched over the scarred wooden table in the kitchen of the shop.  My arms are bandaged, half healed and itching. A different, smaller hand rests on the back of my head stroking hair that's cropped close to my scalp.  

“I'll help you, child.”  The voice is a woman's, roughened by age.  “But you'll have to find the reason to carry on in yourself.  I can't give that to you.”

Aunt.

The sound of the fire fades before I can turn and try to recover anything else from the memory - a glimpse of her face, another word.

The wind of the waves picks up again.  I snuggle close to Julian, listening to his heart beat.  Earlier tonight he said he wanted a future now - reason. And wanted to help people - meaning.  I kiss the edge of his jaw and pull away from him, sitting up.

“Well, this explains why Asra lost his shit the time I burned myself trying to cook.”  I stretch my arms behind me, arching my back as I do.

“Oh?”

“I had to demonstrate how I knocked my arm against the frying pan before he believed it was an accident.  Been banned from the kitchen since.”

“Yeah, I can see him being like that.  Are -- are you okay?”

“Well, I’m kind of pissed I don’t have a mirror.  This phoenix tattoo seems pretty epic from the little bit I can see.”  Julian gives me a serious look, and I sigh and lie back down on the blanket.  “At least as okay as I was before. Just now I know.” I reach up and run a hand down his chest.  “But I won’t object to more cuddling.”

Julian laughs and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him.  “You can always have more of that, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title chapter from Depeche Mode, "Dream On"
> 
> Thanks for reading. That got dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is pulled from Devotchka, "Exhaustible."
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments always welcome. Hit me up on tumblr [@Aria-i-Adagio](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aria-i-adagio) if you care to.


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